Peter Tremayne - Act of Mercy

‘The boy’s right, lady. Also, the keel of our ship reaches down farther under the surface than theirs will. A light vessel is beholden to the choppiness of the slightest wave, whereas we can maintain a better hold because we can reach below superficial turbulence. We can outsail the Saxon against the wind.’

Murchad was back in a jovial mood.

‘The Saxon will be struggling awhile, by which time I hope night will come down, heavy and cloudy. Then we’ll turn south-south-west again and with luck, slip by her under cover of darkness.’

Fidelma stared at the sturdy sailor with some admiration. How well Murchad knew his ship! Something made her start thinking of a horse and its rider. For a moment she did not know why such an image had come into her mind, and then she understood. Murchad felt for his ship and the elements in which it sailed, the sea and the wind, as a good rider felt for his horse. He was at one with it, as if he were but an extension of it.

She peered behind to the distant square-sailed vessel.

‘Are we safe then?’

Murchad did not want to commit himself to absolutes.

‘Depends if her captain shows more forethought than before. He could guess that we will change course under cover of darkness and do the same, hoping to meet us at dawn. My guess, however, is that he will think we are turning tail and running for the safety of a Cornish port. That is the direction in which we are heading now.’

‘Then the excitement is over for the time being?’

Murchad made a humorous grimace.

‘The excitement is over,’ he confirmed. ‘Until daylight!’

That evening, after the meal, Fidelma decided to complete her enquiries. She found Brother Dathal and Brother Adamrae in their cabin. Like the other cabins below deck, it was stuffy and airless there and the lantern which illuminated it also gave off a degree of heat as well as light. She found it stifling after the cool breezes of the deck.

‘What is it you want, Sister?’ demanded Brother Adamrae gruffly as she entered in answer to his sharp invitation when she had knocked upon the door.

‘A brief word — the answers to a few questions,’ she said politely.

‘I suppose this concerns Sister Muirgel,’ Brother Dathal muttered. ‘I heard from Sister Crella that you were following it up.’

Brother Adamrae looked at her with disfavour.

‘What business is it of yours to ask questions?’

Fidelma was not perturbed.

‘I do so at the request of the captain,’ she replied. ‘I am a-’

‘I know. You are an advocate,’ snapped Brother Adamrae. ‘This matter is no concern of ours. We did not come from the same Abbey. Anyway, ask your questions and be gone.’

Brother Dathal looked apologetically at her.

‘What Adamrae means to say is that time is precious to us. We are engaged in scholarship, you see, trying to translate some material.’

‘Time is precious to everyone,’ Fidelma agreed solemnly. ‘It is especially precious for those who have run out of time — like Sister Muirgel.’

She picked up the parchment that lay on the table before Brother Dathal. It was written in the ancient Ogham script, the earliest form of calligraphy of the language of Eireann.

‘Ceathracha is cheithre chead …’ She began to read the ancient lettering.

Brother Dathal looked surprised.

‘Can you read the ancient Ogham letters?’

She grimaced.

‘Did not the pagan god Ogma, god of literacy and learning in primeval times, give the knowledge of such letters to the people of Muman first?’ she countered. ‘Who is able to construe the ancient letters if not a woman of Muman?’

Brother Adamrae scowled.

‘Anyone might be able to pronounce the letters, but what of the meaning of the text? Construe the words, if you are so clever.’

Fidelma pursed her lips and glanced over the ancient words. It was clearly a rhyme.

‘Forty and four hundred

Years, it is not a falsehood

From the going of the people of God,

I assure you,

Over the surface of the sea of Romhar

Till they sped across the sea of Meann,

Thus came the sons of Mile to the land of Eireann.’

Dathal and Adamrae stared at the effortless way she read the ancient poem.

Then Brother Adamrae grunted in disgust as if to belittle her effort.

‘So you know the ancient language of the texts, but do you understand them? Where, for example, is the sea of Romhar? Where is the sea of Meann?’

‘Easy enough,’ replied Fidelma. ‘Romhar is known today as Rua Mhuir, the Red Sea; and Meann must obviously be a form of the great Middle Earth Sea which the Latins call the Mediterranean.’

Brother Dathal was smiling at the discomfort of his companion.

‘Well done, Sister. Well done, indeed,’ he said approvingly.

Brother Adamrae finally relaxed and even forced a smile.

‘It is not everyone who knows the mysteries of the ancient texts,’ he conceded. ‘We are dedicated to retrieving their secrets, Sister.’

‘As I am dedicated to pursuing the truth in law,’ Fidelma replied. ‘As you are aware, the captain has asked me to make a report because, in law, he may be liable to pay compensation if there is a fault to be found, should it be claimed that he was negligent.’

‘We understand. What is it that you want from us?’ replied Brother Dathal.

‘Firstly, when did you last see Sister Muirgel?’

Brother Dathal frowned and glanced at his companion. He shrugged.

‘I don’t remember.’

Brother Adamrae said: ‘Wasn’t it when we came aboard?’

Brother Dathal thought a moment.

‘I think that you are right. She allotted us the accommodation. After that we did not see her again. We were told she had fallen prey to the motion sickness and remained in her cabin.’

‘And neither of you saw her after that?’

They shook their heads in unison.

‘Can I ask where you were during the storm last night? I just want to be sure that no one saw Sister Muirgel making her way to the deck during the storm.’

‘We were here during the whole time of the storm,’ Brother Dathal confirmed. ‘It was a bad storm and we could scarcely stand, let alone go wandering about the ship.’

Brother Adamrae nodded agreement.

‘We were comparing it to the great storm which came among the Children of the Gael on their voyage to Gothia. That was when Eber, son of Tat, and Lamhghlas, son of Aghnon, died and soon after the mermaids rose from the sea playing such sad music that the Children of the Gael were lulled to sleep, and only Caicher the Druid was immune; he managed to save them all by pouring melted wax into their ears. When they came to the extremity of Sliabh Ribhe, Caicher prophesied that they would not find a resting place until they reached the land called Eireann, but added that they themselves would not reach it; their descendants would.’

Fidelma stared at the enthusiastic young man in his breathless discourse. His whole being had become animated by his subject.

‘You are much concerned with these ancient times,’ she commented. ‘You must enjoy your subject.’

‘It is our purpose to write a volume on the history of the Children of the Gael before they reached the Five Kingdoms,’ Brother Dathal beamed.

‘Then I wish you luck in your endeavours. I would be fascinated to read such a work. However, I must finish my enquiry. You say that you both remained all the time in your cabin and never saw Sister Muirgel after you came aboard?’

Brother Adamrae nodded.

‘That is an accurate summary, Sister.’

Fidelma suppressed a sigh of frustration.

Someone was lying among the pilgrims. Someone must have gone into Sister Muirgel’s cabin and stabbed her, dragged her on deck and thrown her overboard. Fidelma was sure of it. Then her earlier question came back to her. Why throw the body overboardand leave her bloodstained robe, clearly showing the stab wounds? That was odd.